Page 59 of Winds of Ruin
We made our way into the hall of a thousand doors. In my fear-stricken state, it reminded me of the night everything changed. The way the sconces lit the space and blood roared in my ears brought back horrid memories.
I’d been seventeen, ripped from sleep.
“Elsie, wake up! Get on your boots,” Mama commanded. She pulled me down the stairs to get to the stone wall where the endless hallway lay hidden behind a ward.
Phynnic soldiers approached. They knew Mama and Papa housed Brennac magic-wielders. We were losing the Great War. The estate had fallen into Phynnic territory during a recent land dispute. It was no longer legal to wield Source magic at Lamoreaux—my parents were now deemed war criminals.
“Take the Egress. Find Fen. Whatever you do, Elsie, do not come back here.” My mother cradled my face and stared into my eyes. The dazzling hazel of her irises matched mine. Hers were lit from within like a fire stoked. “I love you, my whirlwind girl... Now go. Keep moving until we meet again.”
I reeled, stunned silent.
She lifted my cloak hood to obscure my face and pushed me into the Egress, sending me hurdling toward the burning city of Phynx.
Guilt had wracked me for years. I hadn’t returned those simple words.I love you, too, Mama.
My mother lived to help others. She’d died to help them, too.
Leo cleared his throat. “Are you alright, Elsedora?” he asked, his tone somber yet soothing.
I’d led him to the Egress while deep in thought. Standing there before it, I swallowed hard and nodded. “Oh, I’m fine. Just worried.”
“Should we step inside, then?” The lines around his mouth deepened.
“Yes, in you go. I promise it will be over in a blink,” I said.
We crowded into the space.
“To Luz Square,” I commanded.
The Egress whisked us away to the Central Corridor’s capital. I tried pushing the events that had followed that dreadful night centuries ago from my mind.
All I’d found when I’d arrived in Phynx was my brother betrayed by his betrothed, Firose, and a brooding Brennac King who had pity enough to take me with him into the Sahlms.
I’d hit rock-bottom that night.
I’d expected to never hurt so badly again.
I’d been wrong.
The fireplace roared in Angeline and Leo’s bedchamber. The room was dimly lit, and on a bench by the window, a colorful array of knitted quilts lay folded neatly.
“You’re drunk without me,” Angeline said through a wince before she gritted her teeth.
I laughed and settled down on the chair beside her bed, taking her hand in mine. “I’m quite sobered up after this news.”
Wyeth had given Angie something for the pain that made her eyes glassy. I’d caught my Soil-wielding friend on her way out.
She’d told me Angeline’s road to recovery would be a long one; she’d healed the bone enough to allow her comfort but couldn’t heal it entirely without risking making the hip brittle and prone to future breaks. Angeline still had a risk of infection ahead.
I would not let my mind focus on those worst-case scenarios.
“Just a slip. Don’t be dramatic.”
I slumped forward, squeezing her hand. “You broke ahip, Angie.”
“Quite spectacularly, too. I’ve got another one. It will be fine. I was more worried about you thinking I missed your birthday.”
One’s grit for pain matured with age. I saw it in the way Krait’s and Sybilla’s movements slowed when we dueled, yet they applied cold compresses and kept going when I might stop and save my training for a new day.
